Creature Keepers and the Swindled Soil-Soles

by Peter Nelson

  Kriss dropped her the few feet onto the deck. WUMP! Doris landed on her plump fanny, but wasn’t amused. She glared up at the Mothman. “You did that on purpose. Don’t make me write you up, ’cause I will.” She pulled off her helmet. Her hair was sticking out in all different directions.

  Jordan and Abbie rushed to help her up as Kriss fluttered awkwardly.

  “Doris? What are you doing here?” Jordan said.

  The old woman beamed, her cheeks red and windswept. “Boy, am I glad to see you two! Official CKCC business. Kriss carried me all the way across the country without stopping to rest—never gone so fast in all my life!”

  FLUTTER-FLUTTER-WUMP! Abbie turned. The West Virginia Mothman was flopped facedown on the deck behind her, exhausted. “Hi, Kriss,” she said. The cryptid raised a hand and made a soft squeaking noise.

  “Bernard wanted me to come check on how our two ‘interns’ are holding up with Hap and Syd!” She winked at them. “Where is the hippie and the hairball? Get ’em out here!”

  “It’s really good to see you again,” Jordan said quietly. “But I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of an emergency going on up here.”

  Although they’d met the past spring and known each other for only a short time, Doris and Jordan had a strong connection and were very close. And as difficult as it was for Jordan to have to relive all the disastrous details, he filled her in on everything—from Hap hearing rumors of Gusto and making them replacement Creature Keepers, to losing the Soil-Soles, to Syd going AWOL.

  When Jordan had finished, the old woman nodded her head and put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “All right, dearie,” she said softly. If Doris was angry or disappointed, she didn’t let it show. She turned to Kriss. “Change of plans. This is our new priority.” The Mothman nodded.

  “A runaway cryptid is serious business,” Doris said to Jordan and Abbie. “HR-four-seven-dash-three situation. And if Gusto’s out there, oh, that could be bad. So bad.”

  “Plus the missing Soil-Soles,” Abbie said. “Don’t forget that.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Jordan said sharply. “For the reminder.”

  “Actually, that could work to our slight advantage,” Doris said. “Syd without Soil-Soles won’t get very far. He doesn’t do too well on those little tootsies of his.”

  “He has my sneakers on,” Jordan said morosely.

  “And I’m sure they’re very nice tennis shoes, dearie. But he’s gonna want his special footwear back. Now where do we think he’s gone looking for them?”

  “To the lake,” Abbie said. “We saw him head toward Harrison Lake.”

  Doris turned to Kriss. “Take Abbie with you. She’ll show you the direction—and she can interface with any locals you come across and may need to question.”

  Kriss nodded. Before Abbie knew what was happening, the Mothman had her by the waist, and was leaping off the side of the deck, swooping through the trees over the forest floor below.

  “Woooooo!” Jordan heard her excited screams echo off the side of Mount Breakenridge. He sat and put his head in his hands. Doris approached him.

  “We all make mistakes, dearie,” she said softly.

  “Not like mine,” Jordan said.

  “You have pulled some stinkers, I’ll grant you that. But the only truly unforgiveable act is to walk away from a mistake rather than work to make it right.”

  “What can I do?” Jordan said. “I’m no good at anything except messing up.”

  “Is that so? Oh, I’m sorry, I must have you mixed up with another Jordan Grimsley—the Jordan Grimsley who designed, planned, and equipped the wonderful new secret underground command center I work at back in Florida!”

  “You got the stuff I sent,” Jordan said.

  “Wait ’til you see it! We’re becoming a real state-of-the-art, twenty-first-century Creature Keeping operation, all thanks to you and your techspertise.”

  “My what?”

  “Techspertise. I mashed up ‘tech’ with ‘expertise.’ I’m trying to get it to catch on, make it a thing with your generation. Techspertise. Cool, right?”

  “Uh, yeah. Real cool.” He smiled at his old friend. She always made him feel better.

  Doris leaned in closer. “And you know what my favorite thing is about all the new stuff? Eldon doesn’t understand how to use any of it!” She cackled loudly and slapped Jordan hard on the back. He couldn’t help but laugh, too.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s quit sulking and put some of that techspertise of yours to work. Does Syd still have that old telly I got him for his birthday years ago?”

  “You gave him that ancient crate of tubes and wires?”

  “Hey, it was top of the line the year I bought it for him. Think you can rejigger it into something more useful? We need to contact CKCC, and I haven’t gotten the device you gave me to work since Kriss and I flew over the Rockies.”

  “It’s a cell phone, Doris. Let me see it.” She reached into her fanny pack and handed him her smartphone. Jordan inspected it, and gave her a look.

  “I told you, it needs to be charged once in a while. But I’m not sure there’s any reception way up here, anyway. Syd told us Hap set the TV up to a receiver dish to catch the live feed of Buck Wilde’s show. I should be able to reverse that to transmit. I’ll connect your cell phone so it charges, and I can probably use its GPS history to pinpoint the coordinates of the CKCC. With a little luck and clear weather, we might be able to reach them.”

  “I didn’t understand a word you just said. But it’s good to have you back.”

  14

  Abbie felt the wind in her hair as they swooped low over the treetops, out over the lake, just inches from the surface. Held tightly in Kriss’s arms, she could see their reflection in the clear, still water, and couldn’t help but smile.

  Her view was replaced by rocks and sand as Kriss flew south along the shoreline. Abbie spotted something fly by, and tugged on his fur and pointed. “There!”

  The Mothman banked sharply, circling back, landing on a muddy part of the lakeshore. She crouched. They both stared at a pair of enormous footprints in the mud. Bigfoot prints. Soil-Sole prints.

  “He must’ve found them!” Abbie grinned, then suddenly looked puzzled, looking off down the lake in the direction of the tracks. “But why would Syd head south, rather than north, back toward home?”

  Kriss fluttered, and lifted Abbie into the air again. They followed the prints along the rocky beach, until they came dangerously close to Echo Island and the Sasquatch Provincial Park just around the bend. Kriss flew them up to a tree, where they perched and looked down at the prints heading into the thick forest, directly toward the park.

  Abbie shook her head. “Syd would never go in there. He knows it’s swarming with Sasquatch fanatics. He’d be mobbed, and maybe even meet up with Buck Wilde—” She stopped and shared a look with Kriss.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Syd would totally go in there.”

  Jordan had taken Syd’s television apart out on the deck and done his best to reassemble it into a crude but operational receiver and transmission console. He stepped back and proudly admired his work. It felt nice to be useful again.

  “Great job,” Doris said. “Now, how do I use it?” Her cell phone was charged and wired to the TV, so Jordan had her pull up the coordinates to Creature Keeper central command as he fiddled with the small satellite dish Hap had installed on the roof. They stared at the fuzzy white screen and listened to the static. And waited.

  “Once we establish a connection,” Doris said, “I can ask Ed to pinpoint Syd’s whereabouts using your Global Cryptid Positioning System collar thingy.”

  Jordan couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. “Doris, you’re a genius.”

  “Me? It’s all your techspertise, dearie.”

  Jordan smiled. The static on the TV screen suddenly sputtered, intermittently showing a man’s looming face. His voice was choppy, interrupted by white noise.

  “Ed!” Doris yelle
d into her cell phone. “Ed, come in, for Pete’s sake!”

  “This isn’t Pete,” a voice crackled. “It’s Ed. Who in the heckfire is Pete?”

  On the screen, the static gave way to an elderly man’s looming bald head. “Hello? Who’s there? Hello?” Ed seemed confused.

  “Ed! It’s me, Denmother Doris! Can you hear me? Step away from the camera on your computer! You’re sitting too close to the screen again, Ed! We talked about this!”

  Ed sat back, and Jordan got a good look at him: late eighties, short-sleeved dress shirt, tie, a nametag that said Ed, and a coffee mug that read, #1 BOSS. He grinned into the camera. “Doris! Is that you?”

  “Yes, Ed, it’s me. How are things back at the CKCC? Everything okay?”

  “Just the way you left it, Doris,” Ed said. “Everything A-OK, under control!”

  “Well, that’s about to change. I’m afraid we have an HR-four-seven-dash-three situation on our hands.” They watched as Ed set down his coffee mug, pulled out a manual, and started flipping through it. Doris interrupted him. “It means we have a cryptid on the loose, Ed. Is that my coffee mug, by the way?”

  Ed looked up guiltily. He held it up. “Oh, uh, is this one yours?”

  “Yes. It is. Listen carefully now. Go to the Global Cryptid Positioning System monitor and type in Syd’s passcode. It should locate Syd’s homing device and give us his exact whereabouts. Ask Gene to help you, if you’re not sure. Got it?”

  “Easy-peasy, Denmother. We’re on it!” Ed then stepped out of frame. “GENE!”

  As they waited, with Ed out of the way, Jordan got a glimpse of the layout of the new CKCC secret base beneath Eternal Acres. He could see the terminals and workstations, with elderly people in ill-fitting Badger Ranger suits hustling about and working away. Suddenly, an enormous white rabbit with antlers hopped into view, wearing a tiny hardhat. “Hey, there’s Peggy!” Jordan said, smiling at the sight of the Texas Jackalope he’d befriended last spring. “She looks good. Is she helping?”

  “She’s our top tunnel digger,” Doris said. “Antlers make a nice forklift, too.” Doris checked her watch. “Probably on her lunch break right now.” Peggy scratched her nose, stared off into space, then hopped out of view.

  Suddenly Ed was looming in the camera again. “I got it!” he yelled excitedly.

  “Great, Ed, but again, take a step back from the camera, please. We can see what you had for breakfast on your dentures.”

  “Sorry.” Ed stepped back and read from a small bit of paper. “Okay. The GCPS system traced Syd to these exact coordinates—forty-nine degrees, forty-three minutes, twelve seconds north latitude, one hundred twenty-one degrees, fifty-six minutes, two seconds west longitude!”

  “What does that mean? That doesn’t help us, Ed. I need an address. An area.”

  “Hold on, Doris,” Jordan said. “Let me see your phone.” Jordan punched the coordinates into a mapping function on the device. A map of North America came up. It zoomed in on the Pacific Northwest, then Canada, then British Columbia, then Mount Breakenridge, and then . . . Jordan looked up. “Wait. This can’t be right.”

  “What? Where is he? Is he close?” Doris said.

  “Yeah,” Jordan said. He got up and walked toward Syd’s bedroom. A moment later he came out with something in his hands. “Tell Ed and Gene they nailed it. We located Syd’s tracking device. The system worked perfectly.” He held up what was in his hands. Teddy Squatch was wearing a decorative collar around his furry little neck—Syd’s GCPS wristband.

  Doris looked at him, then turned to the transmitter. “Thanks, guys. Looks like we’ve hit a dead end. But keep this channel open. Let us know if you hear anything. We’ll be in touch soon. Over.” She turned to Jordan, who was staring out over the railing, toward Harrison Lake.

  “It was my responsibility to make sure Syd had his wristband on. Looks like I blew that, too.” He turned to face her. “We need Eldon. He’d know what to do. He’d have gone out spooring for Syd, and already have him back by now.”

  “We’ll get Eldon back in no time. That postcard information you gave Bernard will help Kriss track him down, once he gets to the Amazon.”

  “Kriss is supposed to be looking for Eldon? You never told me that!”

  “He was giving me a lift, dearie, then flying on to South America.”

  “Great. So it’s my fault he’s being kept from doing that, because he’s here fixing my mistakes. What if Eldon’s in trouble?”

  “Don’t you worry about Eldon. Bernard tends to overreact when it comes to his Keeper. I’m sure Eldon’s fine. He’s probably out researching jungle spoor samples or something, trying to get himself another Badger Badge.” Jordan could tell that Doris was just trying to make him feel better. It wasn’t working.

  FLUTTER-FLUTTER-FLAP-WUMP! Kriss and Abbie made a less-than-graceful landing on the deck, nearly tumbling into the TV-turned-transmitter.

  “Well?” Doris said.

  “Good news, bad news,” Abbie said breathlessly. “Which do you want first?”

  Once again Doris calmly took in all the information, then once again she began giving everyone assignments. “Okay. First thing is we need to get down to that park right away and make sure Syd’s not in any danger, or doing anything stupid.”

  “I spotted our two goose boats when we were flying back,” Abbie said. “They’re both still stashed by the giant toe boulders down at the shoreline. Each seats two.”

  “We’ll only need to take one, then,” Doris said. “For you and me. Jordan, I want you to stay here in case Syd turns up or Ed calls in with any information.”

  Jordan turned and stormed into the tree house.

  Once Jordan was out of earshot, Doris turned to Kriss. “It’s time for you to fly down to the Amazon. We need Eldon.”

  The Mothman nodded. He glanced at Abbie, then stepped toward the railing.

  “Wait.” Jordan stood in the doorway. He had his backpack on his back, Syd’s fuzzy bunny slippers on his feet, and a determined look on his face. “I’m going with Kriss. I’m going to help find Eldon.”

  “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Doris said. “And what are those things on your feet?”

  “I know why you want me to stay—so I don’t mess anything else up. I don’t trust myself to help with Syd, either. But I can’t sit around here. What we need more than anything right now is Eldon’s help. So I’m going to find him.”

  “Jordan,” Abbie said. “You can’t just run off and save the day.”

  “Look. Eldon sent that postcard to me. Maybe it’s me he wants to come find him. Besides, there’ll be people there. Human people. It’s not like Kriss can just flutter down and chat it up with the locals. You need someone to—how did you put it?—‘interface with any locals you come across.’”

  Doris stepped toward Jordan. “Now you listen here. I wasn’t keeping you here because I thought you’d mess up. I have confidence in you. In fact, I couldn’t be more confident that you’ll find Eldon and get him back safely.”

  She tossed him her motorcycle helmet. Jordan grinned and took a step toward Kriss. Abbie approached them. “Well, if you’re going, I suppose you’ll need a kiss. For luck.”

  This was a first for Jordan, but he figured he needed to be brave. As his sister puckered up and leaned in, Jordan shut his eyes. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and saw Abbie smooch Kriss on the cheek. As the cryptid blushed, she pulled back and looked at Jordan.

  “What?”

  “Uh, nothin’,” he said. He quickly put on his helmet. Abbie picked something up and stuffed it in his backpack. “There. A good-luck charm for you, too. Don’t mess this up.”

  Jordan tightened Doris’s helmet. “Good advice. Thanks.”

  Kriss suddenly grabbed Jordan by the waist and leaped off the edge of the tree house deck. They dived straight down and swooped across the forest floor. Jordan grabbed one end of the rope ladder lying bundled on the ground. Kriss fluttered awkwardly back u
p to the deck, and Jordan tossed the end of the ladder over the railing. He smiled at Doris and Abbie, then he and Kriss went soaring off across Mount Breakenridge.

  15

  Kriss carried Jordan far out over the Pacific Ocean before turning south. Flying low, close to the rolling waves, Jordan noticed the way Kriss used the strong winds that blew across the sea. The Mothman had an erratic, almost embarrassing way of fluttering about crazily when he had to fly slowly, or hover, or land. But when he wanted to go fast, he could zip through the air at alarming speeds. As his passenger, Jordan could feel Kriss picking up the air patterns around him, and with those same erratic movements that looked so awkward when he was fluttering, quickly adjust and lock in to the invisible currents all around him as they glided southward.

  The only sound Jordan could hear was the wind whooshing by, and the occasional flapping of Kriss’s wings in the strong winds. There was a powerful odor of salt air and sea, with just a touch of Mothman’s natural smell, which reminded Jordan of his great aunt Diane’s musty old winter coat.

  Once they passed the equator and entered the South Pacific, Jordan began to feel the air currents getting warmer. Kriss banked eastward, and Jordan spotted the coast of South America in the distance. Kriss climbed as they approached land to avoid being detected, and soon they were peering down through the clouds over the jungle mountains of Colombia. They spotted the Amazon River next, and followed it from above as it curled into Brazil, twisting and turning, cutting through the bright green jungle like a dark anaconda. Finally, where the Amazon slithered through the dense jungle, there was one last outpost of civilization: the last place Eldon had been heard from, the floating village of Palafito. Kriss dived, heading straight for it.

  The tiny village of Palafito was much like Eldon’s postcard described—it wasn’t just located on the banks of the Amazon River, it was actually floating in it. Anchored to the thick jungle shore, the cluster of ramps, docks, and small buildings bobbed gently on the murky green water.